Thirty Nine

I just took the dogs outside for their morning business. Of course I think their business is to quickly pee and poop. They think their business is to roam the yard looking for evidence of critters that may have intruded overnight and bark at the planes above. Thank goodness it is not cold out there because otherwise it could be unpleasant. Then again, when it isn't bitter cold those two nut dogs find other distractions. Like barking at the sound of a car passing through the alley, and barking at my neighbor who leaves for work at six in the morning. When the heart of winter arrives, when the temperature drops and the dog poo freezes solid to the ground, that's when my dogs will run out and do what has to be done within sixty seconds. They aren't stupid, they don't like it too cold either. One week to official winter, and two weeks until I turn seventy years old. Two depressing things to look forward to. But only if I let them, because on the bright side the dogs won't make me hang out in that cold for long and I can do what my mom did for many years. Lie about my age.